


Fight Like a Flamingo

by misura



Category: The Rundown (2003)
Genre: Community: smallfandomfest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 19:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4275756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I know you can't keep your hands off of me, but I kind of feel like a dirty old man right now."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fight Like a Flamingo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ozsaur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozsaur/gifts).



> prompt: _Beck/Travis, self defense_

Subterfuge had never been Beck's strong suit - he preferred the direct approach, the Option A or Option B school of life, the My Way or the High Way way of doing things, as Travis called it.

On the other hand, in some situations, a bit of subtlety was called for.

Relationships were like that, he supposed. Cooking, too.

 

"Don't think I don't know where this is coming from," Travis said.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Beck was fairly sure Travis did not, in fact, know where this was coming from.

Travis nodded, expression smug. "Good."

"So," Beck said. "You up for it?"

"Well, that depends, doesn't it, big boy?"

"On?"

Travis grinned, expression smugger. "Are _you_ up for doing the dishes for the next oh, shall we say two months? Sounds reasonable to me. Outright generous, even."

"Hm." Beck considered. He didn't mind doing the dishes, exactly; it was part of the cooking process, as far as he was concerned. You made a mess, you cleaned it up.

"Three months. Tick, tock."

"Two," Beck said. He felt that in relationships as in interactions with customers, it was important to respect boundaries, and to remind other people to do the same.

"Four." Of course, he was entirely aware that not everyone shared that attitude.

"All right," Beck said. "Three months of doing the dishes in exchange for you teaching me that fighting style of yours. But I'm warning you, I'll be expecting to get my money's worth."

Travis was thinking about arguing, Beck could tell - if only because Travis seemed to want to argue about every little thing. It was one of his less endearing personality flaws.

Best to nip that in the bud with a well-put: "Take it or leave it."

"Oh, fine." Travis sighed. "Seriously, though, man, you never heard of haggling? It's an art form, in some places of the world. We ever get to Morocco, remind me to show you the proper way to rent a couple of camels at a sweet price."

"Sounds fun," Beck said. "Some nice food in Morocco, too."

 

The way Beck looked at it, he needed a new fighting style about as much as a second restaurant. Besides, even if he _had_ needed one, he'd have picked something a little bit more established and well-documented than Travis's ... whatever it was called.

On the other hand, he did feel fairly strongly that _Travis_ needed to learn how to fight like someone who was actually justified in thinking he knew what he was doing. According to the grapevine, some unpleasant people were still more or less looking for Travis, courtesy of a little misunderstanding involving someone's wife.

Naturally, sharing this information with Travis would result in nothing at all - except, perhaps, an argument and possibly a vaguely worded denial from Travis.

Thus, Beck figured he'd go for the next best thing. After all, teaching was supposed to be an educational experience for both the teacher and the student.

 

"First lesson: be a cock."

Beck blinked. "Excuse me?"

"A cock," Travis said. "You know, the animal. Also known as a rooster, if that makes you more comfortable. Although hey, same thing. Why do we have two words for the exact same animal?"

"I'm not a linguist. How do I become a rooster?"

"Seriously? What's the matter, can't pronounce the other word? Because that's not what I remember from last night." Travis waggled his eyebrows.

"I don't think you want to bring up last night."

"Oh, I think I do want to bring up last night. What do you have to say to that, huh, big boy? What, you think you're gonna hit me? You think I'm gonna let you hit me? Come on, give it a try."

Beck gave him a long look, an action that had never done him any good whatsoever on previous occasions. Still, it felt more ... civilized than actually obliging Travis by hitting him.

Violence might solve quite a number of problems, but Beck felt relationship trouble should be solved by conversation, communication and mutual understanding. Sex, if all else failed and you just wanted the other party to stop talking at you for a while. Not violence, though.

"Bad form for a student to hit his teacher," he said.

"I think you should address me as 'Master'," Travis said.

 

Apparently, one 'became a rooster' by standing on one leg.

"Isn't that storks?" Beck asked. He had a pretty good sense of balance. "Or flamingos?"

"You ever heard of someone losing their last couple of pesos betting on a stork fight? Or a flamingo fight? Huh, student?"

"Just asking," Beck said. Travis glowered. "Master."

 

Lesson Number Two was: be a tiger.

"I'm not putting on the suit and that's final," Beck said. He had no idea where Travis had even found it.

"How can I teach such an ungrateful, reluctant pupil, is what I'd like to know," Travis said. "Look, it's just for a couple of days. And you get to hand out these little packets of nuts to people."

"Tigers don't eat nuts."

"I think the idea may be that people who eat them become tigerish in some way. Tigeral? Anyway, it's a good exercise to, you know, walk around with everyone poking fun at your looks. Mostly behind your back, but you can bet there's going to be a couple doing it to your face."

"And that's part of your fighting style." Beck supposed he could see how being treated that way would make you pick up a few tricks about self-defense, to say nothing of self-control - although the latter was not something he'd have assumed Travis to be even passingly familiar with.

Travis shrugged. "Honestly, I think it'd look good on you, big boy. Sexy."

"All right, that clinches it," Beck said. "No way, no how. Let's move on to lesson three, shall we?"

 

Lesson five was -

"I know you can't keep your hands off of me, but I kind of feel like a dirty old man right now."

"Pretty sure I'm older than you are," Beck said.

"I'm talking spiritual age, not physical. Maturity level, if you will," Travis said. "Face it, you're a little bit immature from time to time - childish, even. Take this morning."

"Objecting to someone hogging the bathroom is not childish."

"Forcing the door is," Travis said. "I mean, someone could have gotten hurt."

 

"No, no, you should - like this, see?"

"But then _you_ could - "

"Not if you do this."

"That doesn't work if I - "

"Could you maybe stop trying to distract me with your body?"

 

The final lesson was: be a dishwasher.

Beck snorted. "You expect me to fall for that? Seriously?"

"It's clear you have a calling," Travis said. "Honestly, I'm humbled in the face of it. Clearly, fate's plan for you includes dirty dishes and a terrifically hot boyfriend willing to do just about anything your dirty mind might conceive. Why fight destiny?"


End file.
